He hadn't in decades, so it shook and unsettled him, but there was no other way to call the series of sensations and images coming upon him.
What used to be a thick slumber he had to fight through, mixed with moments of passive awareness and consciousness in Alexander's body, took a turn and reshaped. The points of slumber, of stillness, they changed. The vast, stagnant void of it, was no more. Gently, like the first ripple in a long-still lake, the dreams began to form before him. Images from Alexander's books and stories would manifest themselves in his imagination, through colours and feelings and details. Becoming more vivid, to the point where it didn't matter they were in his imagination alone, they were still affecting him.
Alexander would tell a story and Magnus would dream about it when he wasn't conscious. Dressing the Father's words in visuals, putting himself around the periphery of the story, or directly making himself a character in it. Experiencing bizarre wishes, bizarre likes, and even more bizarre aspirations. As though he was stupider in those dreams, as though he forgot himself.
Some of the dreams ran away with him to the point where they weren't even manifested by the Father's tales. Magnus's own imagination seemed to brew them with no help, now that it had the chance, and the doors to more were cracked right open. When Magnus was the culprit, his subconsciousness brought up less elaborate things.
The demon found himself dreaming of the sun. The sun that he disliked so much typically, the warm sensation of it, the shine on his skin during a good day.
On top of that, he helplessly drifted into dreams of cats, of parties, of New York City.
That was the worst of it by far, continuing to haunt him when he dreamt of eating, plates of food laid out, with different taste and texture. Of drinking, cool water that quenched a thirst he shouldn't have, then an exquisite cocktail with an olive on top, soothing his throat like a balm.
Magnus knew all of this was bad, but it didn't feel bad. Not compared to the emptiness. If he had to choose between the emptiness or the dreams, he liked the dreams somewhat better. In direct comparison they felt better, and wasn't that what all demons and dark souls had come to claim- it can't be bad if it feels good. If it feels better than what was before. Demons wouldn't fight something they enjoy, something they favor. They weren't like the mortals, shamed away from their desires. Nothing should be forbidden for Magnus, nothing should be too much and off limits, and yet this was dangerous because it was different. Was this how mortals felt when they were placed outside of their realm of familiarity?
Magnus should stop himself from wondering as if he cared. How could caring feel better than not caring? It couldn't.
He was only confused, that was all, this was confusing him. His clarity would return after he takes his revenge, it was pointless to expect differently at this moment. Later when he was free, he'll see this for what it really is, no more than an appalling prison.
By now he knew when he'll be passively awake, what would frequently bring him out if he had no ability to fight through it himself. He'll be awake either when his name was spoken, or when essence and body were in the same room. With him. Alexander.
The demon would hear more and more when Alec (and by extension Magnus himself) was with the vessel, he would feel more. He ought to use it when the time was near.
Alexander was too empathetic, his critical judgement compromised because of the tragedy with his brother. It seemed the priest saw a victim of possession, someone that could have been Jace, that's why he was so kind.
Hellspawns beyond, he was so kind. Too kind. Too good and too calm. A stark contrast to the uproars in Hell that Magnus came from, which he commonly resided in the middle of. Alexander was a lot of things that started with 'too' and ended in all possible manners. There was a quiet strength he held. There was softness behind the edges of his demeanor.
Magnus probably hated him, a bit differently than he hated everyone else. In a slightly altered way than he was used to hate overall.
Alexander's easiest weakness to be exploited would always be his Jace. Even from Jace's grave. Even from Hell, where Alexander knew he had ended up. Magnus roved through his own memories and recollections, and then through Alexander's, when he had small access, trying to determine where Jace had to have been thrown in. The demon attempted it as subtle and as imperceptible as possible, before he was thrown in the next dream.
It was getting tiring to stay in one place by the altar, but Alec was more or less used to it when he was concentrated. His voice carried steadily in the hall, to all the people listening to today's lecture.
He had just delivered a message about self-forgiveness and ambition, two things he was struggling with himself, but that was for him to combat. As always, it was easier for him to engage with others through the ways of the Church. He couldn't remember the last time he went to hang out with people he liked that weren't in any way connected to the job or his past, having casual conversations. Instead, that's how he interacted with everyone. Through this.
Sometimes he thought of the demon in him and the remarks Alec had heard. That he was actually wrong to claim people have disappointed him, closing himself off, only using this to reach forward. But at the same time, he shouldn't listen to anything a demon was feeding him. Their only goal was to spread doubt and hurt, that's what they knew.
As some of the visitors and a couple other clergyman filtered out, exchanging warm greetings and gentle smiles, Alec gathered his notes, preparing for the private moments that would follow. The confessions. Walking toward the booth at the side of the hall, its wooden frame worn by years of use, the thick scent of incense mingled with candle wax. He opened the moderately creaking door and took his place in the chair of the confessional, a place that held countless stories of struggle and redemption.
The rest followed in more hushed tones.
''Father, I have no idea what to do,'' a woman began, her voice trembling slightly. ''My husband lives separately from me, with another woman, and I don't think he's coming back.''
''That must be really discouraging for you. Have you thought about divorcing him?''
''I have. But the Lord brought us together in holy matrimony. I keep thinking I've given vows till death, and it just scares me. People around me don't look too kindly on divorces, they say it's disrespectful to break the bonds set for us by Him. That it would be low of me, instead of trying to repair things.''
Alec offered some of his thoughts, ''The Lord sometimes gives us metaphors, which we can interpret looking into our feelings. Until death doesn't have to be a physical death of one of you. It could be the death of the relationship, the death of his feelings, or yours. In what you're describing, I gather that he was the one deciding to break the bond you had with his actions. It wasn't you.
''If he's living a life which has no place for you, if he's forgotten his own vows he gave you, and is actively disrespecting you and making you feel miserable, I think you're absolutely in your right to divorce him. The Lord wants you to be respected, and he wants you to be loved. Consider this when you decide what to do.'' He weighed a bit before he added, ''The people around you who may judge you, they don't really know what they'll do in your place. Because they are not in your place, you are.''
A younger sounding woman was next.
''I've done enough I need forgiveness for, but I don't know where to start. I've failed myself. Not sure how to find my way back to my faith.''
''What makes you feel you've lost your way?'' Alec asked.
''Honestly,'' the woman's breath stuttered, ''it's more than one thing. But to top it all off, with the way I live my life, I've dated both genders. It's what pushed me the furthest away from this place.''
''Back and more humiliated than ever,'' the sad voice admitted. ''My parents are quite religious, they struggled a lot with me.''
''Some of those struggles were over what you confessed about your romantic interests, am I correct?''
''Yes. I've tried to change, I really have.''
He turned to the space between their sides of the booth, ''Would your parents expect you to change the colour of your eyes, if you were born with one they weren't prepared for?''
''Did your parents expect you to change the colour of your natural hair when it started growing?''
The reply was just as hesitant when the woman denied that too.
Alec carried on, more kindly, ''Why do you think they didn't?''
''Because I... couldn't have, even if I wanted to.''
''There is your answer. Who you are attracted to is just as natural. Maybe not natural to your parents, but you are a separate person, with feelings and wishes of your own. If you need your parents to understand, tell them we are the Lord's creation. If they are indeed religious, they accept this and value his judgement. This is how he made you, because he never made anything only one way. No, he set some of our differences, to help us find ourselves independently. He knows there is a lot of contrast and divergence around us, he created it so. We only need to look past us to see it. You're not to be punished for something outside of your control.''
''But should I still act on it?''
''If it's reciprocated, you aren't hurting anyone if you do. Same sex marriage is legal here. I assume your parents acted on their feelings when they found each other. None of that is something for you to be excluded from. You aren't excluded from finding the same happiness your parents did, the same happiness that others find.''
''I wish that I could say it like that when I talk to them.''
''I understand,'' Alec nodded, ''Maybe you'll be more comfortable bringing them here, when I could say this to them.''
''Crap, imagine their faces when-'' a slap over the mouth raced over whatever the woman was going to throw in. ''Forgive my language, please! I haven't been to Church in a while.''
''It's forgiven. I would absolutely talk to them, if that is easier for you. In any case, don't hate the way the Lord created you. He loves you this way, as he loves everyone.'' A subtle shift in Alec's stance came, before he picked up, ''About something else you've said- if you no longer find peace going to Church, you can also consider why you do it. Because you want to, or because you have to.''
''Isn't this a case of: we all have to.''
Alec was pensive before saying, ''Just as there are different ways to pray, there are different ways to find calm and peace.''
At a later time, while the sun dipped low on the horizon and the people Alec heard and blessed retired to their homes, he closed the gates of the Church and turned the key. Blowing out some of the candles, his back leaned against the wall and his eyes closed, bringing out the cross from under his clothes and clamping his fingers over it. The reason it was always under the clothes and not above them, even though it would make all the sense for Alec to display it, make it visible for everyone given his position, was because it was different than the crosses priests often wore. It was much smaller, much more Alec's taste: basic, silver, and purified in holy water.
He just liked to keep it tucked away and closer to his heart, especially in times like these.
His introspection from before maintained, for whatever reason. He checked the man he looked after, inspected his IV and the fluids he received through it, then provided the body with a longer glance. Narrowing his eyes as the stare deepened, his eyes fixated on anything out of the ordinary.
Was he being crazy, Alec wondered when he blinked a few times and shook his head.
The flickering candlelight by the unresponsive man cast long shadows across the ancient stone walls. The scent of incense still hung in the air, as Alec was just leaving to his own private space and sanctuary.
Again, was he going crazy?
Was he going crazy or was there a certain feeling associated with this side room, because of the person in it. He walked out, but moved slower, deep in thought, only partly paying attention to what he was doing.
The Church stood silent under the moon's gaze.
Soon it was even later at night, Alec still away from the small bed he used, giving in to none of the claws of sleep.
Without warning, the ground shook. A low, guttural sound, like the growl of a wild beast, was coming from the outside. Finding one of the church windows and looking through, something stirred in the dark, an unnatural chill creeping up Alec's spine, making the hair on the back of his neck stand. A toxic presence was in the air.
First, out the window something met his gaze, another pair of eyes, making him jump away. His overwhelming sense of being watched, of being hunted by a predator, was sending alarm bells ring with a blaring intensity through his whole body.
His turmoil got him a sense of Magnus Bane, sleepy and muddled, so Alec held him at bay. For once this week Magnus Bane wasn't the lurking presence that set him into disturbance.
Silhouettes and shapes moved at the edges of the building, creeping closer, slithering over the gates. Pushing against the wards.
Lower class, must have been invoked and brought to action by power of an infernal being higher-up. Trying to get the doors to burst open. Pouring to push from one place, looking for a hole to weaken the defenses.
Reaching the only open window to the entrance and forcing it shut, Alec saw more distorted outlines in the night, twisted by darkness and rage. Claws scraped against the glass the second he secured its closing and pulled himself away. The diabolical creature's attempts unrelenting, hungry, searching.
Find it! It's in here! Find it! Mommy wants it!
Alec clamped his hands over his ears, trying to shield himself, fingers curling inwards. A sharp breath caught in his throat, and his chest rose and fell in quick shallow gasps, as if he couldn't get enough air. His eyes darted around the building, having perfect memory of where more weapons were hidden. Considering the chance of the Church not withstanding this attack.
Smell it! It's here! Take it for Mommy!
No, the building and its defenses had never dealt with such a swarm of demons at once, leaping to hit the pane, looking for a way in. Objects tumbled from their placements unprompted, blown out candles falling on the floor, and Alec was rushing into action.
Books tumbled from their shelves, this time with Alec's help as he ransacked to start the right incantation, cutting his other unscathed hand, requiring his blood like he had for the summoning once before. Like other times, the words were foreign just before they rolled down his tongue, turning well-known the second he used them. The switch was familiar by now, reminding him of his lineage better than anything else could.
You, one of the demons was hissing and snarling from the glass, You have it! You've hidden it! Not for you! Is for Mommy!
Alec felt the power of the incantation building within him. His voice, strong and resonant, cut through the oppressive atmosphere. Some of the dark shapes hissed and recoiled when he was battling back now. He used the power harvested in the soil when he spoke the words in his grandsire's language, the consecrated territory mixed with the sacred text he read from, meant to drive them away.
It chased off a good amount, but he was quickly becoming convinced that what he was doing wouldn't be enough against the overwhelming odds. They were too many to begin with, too many to fend off through this. He could force away about half, but then he still had the rest attacking him. Lower demons may be weaker individually, but this many could be fatal.
He crossed himself, moving his hand from the forehead to the chest and then from one shoulder to the other. Then he reached down to his legs, gathering the heavy black fabric of his robes, tearing it from both sides, one uneven line on the right and one on the left. Forcing the material to separate in order for Alec to move quickly and sufficiently. Needing the speed and mobility cloaked behind the ceremonial garb. For this part, only the warrior remained.
With his ripped apparel and its edges fluttering free, Alec reached for the inside of his boot. Taking out a small dart from it. Saying the words and watching it grow to a set of crossbow bolts in his hold, he hurtled towards the only other entry besides the main, a narrow back entrance which was visibly sealed. On the way, he got the crossbow, hidden in a compartment under loose floorboards, runes spread over the entirety of it. Barely catching his breath, he was running while the air itself seemed to howl in his pursuit.
The sealed back door was marked with a rune as well. Alec's bloody hand over it revealed a glamoured gap he could see and shoot from. Stopping things from getting in, but not stopping them from getting out, exactly what he needed. Like through a spell, the gap widened, helping him see outside.
With practiced precision, Alec dropped to one knee, his crossbow trained on the moving shadows. His heart pounded with adrenaline, but his hands remained steady.
The first demon, with scaled skin and fiery eyes, fell fast and neat. The second only displayed part of its clawed limbs before letting out a pained roar, pierced through the chest, disintegrating into the night dust. Alec's pointed projectile was cutting through the darkness, taking out creature after creature. With fluid movements, he lunged shot after shot. His body responding instantly, trained by years of demon hunting.
Hellspawns beyond, I didnât know you had it in you.
I think you've got them. Take that, Lilith, you filthy little bitch!
''No,'' Alec pushed him away.
You could benefit from my help.
Magnus Bane had no reason to help him. He wanted him to die here.
''How did you make Lilith send them?''
I didn't. Does this look like something I would want? We're tied, I have a vested interest in you surviving this particular encounter.
''Then why has she sent them? Why now?''
Stop this and listen to me. With my help, you'll kill them all. Let me.
''I'm not letting you in,'' Alec whispered coldly, narrowing his focus after recharging, releasing the following shots and finding his mark.
Not letting me in, only the strength I've got. It's there for you to use, I'll allow it to flow through you. I won't resist.
Alec inhaled deeply, filled with his misgivings about it. ''Why would you help me?''
Because I've despised Lilith longer than you've been alive. I have no issue seeing all her faithful offsprings burn. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, just this once. Let me kill them.
Alec digged for dishonesty, but exhaustion may start slowing him down and the wards were getting weaker. Besides, in that moment, Magnus's hate for Lilith felt true.
He only had to open his mind to it, before Magnus's strength began to channel into him, wrapping around them like an invisible force. Alec's body reacted almost instinctively, his muscles tensing and then relaxing as the power coursed through him.
In an instant, he was fully outside, standing tall, raising his head.
A vision of black large wings unfurled from his back, sweeping outward with an elegance. He sensed them like an abstract and incorporeal existence, not having a physical body but rather a manifestation of power.
Alec flicked his wrist, and the demons were toast.
''What kind of demon are you?''
Is it? Wait until you see my father.
Alec's instincts flared, a realisation crashing over him. The Devil might be a story, but he was said to be a fallen Angel, expelled from Heaven.
Magnus's father... a fallen Angel?
Angels were known to have a corporeal human-like body, one that became vulnerable without the celestial being occupying it.
